


Bruises

by Bassarid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bruises, Drabble, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9390980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bassarid/pseuds/Bassarid
Summary: Figure skaters have bruises all the time - Otabek knows, but seeing them on Yuri is difficult





	

We all have bruises. This is not some deep statement. I'm talking about figure skaters. And actual bruises. Each fall leaving you with a host of new blue and purple marks, to accompany the fading yellow ones, on knees, hips, arms.  
I used to be proud of mine, proof of how hard I was training, of how much it meant to me, how much I was willing to give.

But I hate them on you.

I'm sure they look worse than they are, I'm sure mine always have.

Of course you'd hate if I said something.

You're done with people underestimating you because you're young, fussing about you because you seem fragile, sometimes.  
I know you're tough, knew it from the moment I first looked into your eyes.  
You complain about almost everything, but never about this, about how much it takes out of you.  
Senior gold medalist at age fifteen.  
All grown up now, but still looking deceptively fragile. Sometimes.

No, I can't tell you how all your bruises and every small injury remind me of your mortality.  
So I kiss them instead, gently, rub your sore muscles, help bandage your feet when they're sore.

I've added to your bruises, too. Small oblong ones on the inside of your thighs. A few on your neck, making your friends snicker and tease when they noticed. You just huffed and carried yourself with the same fierce pride that is so very you.

You're no less beautiful for your bruises, but I wish I could make sure that nothing ever hurts you. I am not your knight, no matter what they call me, because you're not a damsel in distress, you don't need saving. And you might just try to kill me if I ever treated you that way. But I love you more than I ever thought I could, and sometimes it scares me. I wish I could tell you in words that aren't quite so pathetic. 

Sometimes, when I lift my head after letting my lips brush over a particularly nasty bruise, the look you give me makes me think you know, anyway. Almost apologetic. 

“Just a bruise. I've had so many.”

Just a bruise.

**Author's Note:**

> My stories are getting shorter and more drabble-y each time, but I am working on something longer. Downright epic. Or maybe not.  
> Waxing poetic just makes me happy, sometimes.


End file.
